


Haze

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (says the girl who's literally never had a sip of alcohol), Alec Lightwood is Not Neurtotypical, Depressed Alec, Drunk Alec, Let Them Hug, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, don't drink your problems folks, it doesn't work out, sh i have no idea if this story is any good or makes any sense but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9837263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the funeral for the fallen, Alec tries to drink his troubles away. It doesn't work.(Takes place after 2.05- like, directly after.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! This is un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

Alec doesn’t drink. Not really. It’s not something he does of his own volition, at any rate- occasionally Jace or Izzy or both will drag him out for “a night on the town” or else Magnus will zap a glass of wine into his hands and he’ll drink it to appear polite. But there’s something about drinking that he usually doesn’t like; partly the burn on his tongue of something that doesn’t actually taste very good, and partly the dizzying loss of control. 

 

Tonight, though, tonight, Alec drinks. There’s not alcohol allowed in the Institute- not that that ever stops Jace, but Alec doesn’t know where he keeps his stash, and he’s certainly not going to _ask-_ so that makes it a challenge. He thinks about going to Pandemonium, but there are too many people he might run into there. The kind of night he intends on embarking on is not social.

 

Instead, he settles on a hole-in-the-wall bar just on the edge of Brooklyn. And he drinks. He doesn’t remember the name of what he’s drinking, as he only ordered it because it was inexpensive and the first thing he saw on the menu, but the fire-feeling it produces in his throat ensures that it’s going to accomplish his goal for the night, which is, if he’s being completeley honest, to get blasted enough to forget his problems. Which is. You know. So not his style, or in any way, shape, or form _healthy_ , but Alec’s beginning to think that maybe he’s just royally fucked-up enough that healthy's officially gone out of the window.

 

It doesn’t take much for him to get drunk. His head is already spinning at the middle of his first, short glass of amber, and by the second, everything in the room is so _bright_ and _loud_ and _awful._ He wants to leave. He wants to be alone. Actually, no, he just wants to be with someone he knows. He’s already alone, in a crowd full of strangers, and he’s finding that it’s not a feeling he particularly likes. 

 

Alec stands, leaving a tip on the counter for the bartender who’s back is turned away, and walks out with only two-thirds of his second glass finished. He’s pretty sure he’s in what Jace would call “Alec Light _weight”_ mode, and that makes him think of Isabelle’s face, his sweet little sister’s giggle, and he wishes for her that he was a better brother. That he could open up more, that he was able to stand up to their parents on the regular in the courageous and kind of terrifying way that she always manages to.

 

Alec isn’t sure what his personality is when he’s drunk. He's only ever taken a few sips of any drink ordered for him, in all honesty. He’s heard people say that some people get giggly and light and happy when they’ve been drinking, but personally, he would just settle for Not Being Miserable. Unfortunately, that's not the way it seems to work- he feels like the world’s about to swallow him whole and maybe he wouldn’t mind that so much because he can’t stop _seeing it._ The blood on his hands, the snarling being that had crawled inside him, Jocelyn’s pleading face, Clary’s tears at the rite of mourning. It was all Too Much. Alec thought that the alcohol would help, that he could forget, but now he’s just awful and drunk. And walking, walking, walking. He's faced with two conflicting truths: He can’t go back to the Institute. He doesn’t want to be alone.

 

He’s not really aware that he’s going to Magnus’ apartment until the other man has already buzzed him in, and soon enough he’s at the all-too-familiar-by-this-point door. _I shouldn’t be here,_ he thinks as he allows himself to relish in the way his knuckles ache when he raps on the door. _It’s not fair to burden him._

 

But Alec isn’t fair or sober, so he doesn’t walk away. The door opens far too easily and there Magnus stands, his gelled-up hair perfect and electric blue at the tips, tonight, and his clothes soft and pressed, make-up so colorful but not in an overwhelming way. Alec wants to be mad, for a minute, because really, it’s not fair that even in a haze of alcohol and misery and guilt, Magnus still looks _so fucking beautiful._ Too beautiful for Alec.

 

He’s greeted with Magnus’ smile at first, but his boyfriend _(boyfriend?)_ quickly seems to realize that this isn’t a happy, hey-I-just-thought-I’d-drop-by visit. More of an, hey-everything’s-awful-and-it’s-the-middle-of-the-night-and-i’m-so-very-drunk encounter.

 

"Alexander, what’s wrong?” Alec stands stiffly, still except for his left hand, which is engaged currently in idly tracing patterns on the other. It’s calming him down, a little. He opens his mouth to answer, but finds that he can’t really talk, doesn’t really want to. “You can come inside, love, come on,” Magnus guides him gently, the hand without any rings on it placed on the small of Alec’s back. He stumbles a bit, and ends up with his head thrown over Magnus' shoulder and maybe that’s kind of funny and he wants to laugh, except instead of laughing a sob comes out. He’s crying? He’s crying. He’s never been much for crying in front of people or, like, at all, but right now he’s crying and he has his arm wrapped around Magnus’ body and he doesn’t want to ever let go. “Oh, angel,” Magnus exhales like he can’t bear it, like he wants to take all the sadness away but that just makes Alec cry harder because he deserves to feel this way after what he did. Alec cries and Magnus stands there, letting him cling to him in a fearful, crushing embrace, like a child. They stay there for several moments, until Alec's breathing has calmed and he can hear Magnus' heartbeat perfectly. An overwhelming part of his brain wants to kiss Magnus right now, wants to feel the warmth of his lips and the spark that kissing his boyfriend always produces in his chest, but he's also devastatingly aware of the fact that his breath smells like alcohol, and that is enough to reign himself in. He settles for applying a small kiss to Magnus' hairline instead.

 

 _This is selfish,_ he tells himself and probably Magnus too, because even though Alec hadn’t meant to say that out loud, it’s not like people tend to have great filters when they’re drunk and Magnus is giving him a level look. Not cruel by any means, just calculating. Trying to understand.

 

“Is this about Jocelyn?” Magnus asks, so, so quiet, but Alec can’t decide if it’s a whisper or not. Alec shrugs, then shakes his head, then nods, because yeah, okay, he’s a terrible liar about things like this when he’s  _not_ drunk out of his goddamn mind. “Oh, Alec,” he sighs before pressing a soft kiss to Alec’s forehead. The pressure feels good against his skin, he notes mildly, as he lets Magnus lead him to the couch. “I’m going to get you some coffee, and some water,” Magnus announces gently, motioning to Alec to sit on the sofa. “And then I want to talk. Okay?” 

 

Alec’s not sure if his voice works anymore. Maybe he’ll never speak again, he finds himself thinking. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Okay,” he tries, and it kind of doesn’t sound like his voice. Like, the way his voice would sound if it was underwater? That’s what it sounds like.

 

Magnus returns a few minutes later, with coffee and water as promised. “Here you are,” he says, sitting next to his boyfriend with a small, sad smile, and opting to hand him the mug first. Sobriety first, then hydration, Alec figures. It’s a good plan. “So, darling,” Magnus begins in a tone that’s trying so, so hard to be light and casual. “Would you, uh, care to tell me why you’ve been drinking? Not that you have to, of course, you’re a grown man who knows how to drink responsibly, I’m sure. I was just under the impression that it wasn’t really... your thing. And you seem so distraught,” he says, concern so evident in his voice. In another, less serious situation, it might have been amusing that Magnus is the one stumbling over his words, for _once,_ but right now all Alec can think about is how utterly selfish it was to show up here. Alec doesn’t answer right away, but Magnus doesn’t add anything either, just looks at Alec and waits. Expectantly. Patiently. Alec is pretty sure he could sit here for an hour and not say anything, and then leave, and that Magnus still wouldn’t try to pressure him. But Alec’s not going to do that. Talk about selfish. Magnus _at least_ deserves an explanation for why this mess of a shadowhunter showed up at his door in the middle of the night and sobbed into his shoulder for five minutes.

 

“I-” Alec starts, and the air is so thick, it might actually choke him. “I killed Jocelyn.” Magnus’ eyes widen, and he gently, so gently, takes Alec’s free hand into his. 

“Alec,” Magnus begins, overcome with something Alec can’t place. “No. You didn’t. That was a demon- that wasn’t you.”

 

Nodding, Alec looks away so that Magnus won’t see his eyes, which are brimming with tears again. “I know that, logically. In my head. But I wake up in the middle of the night, and I hear her scream, and nothing’s alright-” he’s crying again, but not in the muted, choked way he was sobbing before. No, the tears are falling freely and he lets Magnus squeeze his hand. Though his words all ring coherently strung together to his own ears, he's faintly aware of the way that they're slurring and sloshing in his mouth. “I wish I couldn’t feel anything,” he says finally, allowing himself to look at Magnus again. 

 

“Oh, darling,” Magnus says, pulling his hand away from Alec’s so that his thumb can brush away some of the tears on his cheek. “That’s not the answer.”

 

Alec knows he’s right, because, if he’s being honest, Magnus usually is. But that doesn’t make any of this any easier. He wants to say that, or say something, anything, to make the air less thick and wrought with all of his drama. But all he can manages to say is- “I want to- can I... can I stay here? For the night? I’ll sleep on the couch,” he adds quickly, but Magnus won’t have any of that.

 

“You’ll do no such thing. I have a king-sized bed, Alexander, and as long as you’re comfortable with it, I have to insist you share it with me,” Magnus tries a teasing smile, but Alec’s still unsure. He grows acutely aware that Magnus’ hand is still grazing his cheek, and tries not to let his insides melt at the feeling.

 

“As long as you don’t mind...” 

 

Magnus is lightly touching the back of Alec's head, long fingers brushing at Alec's unruly black hair, and suddenly, he’s acutely aware of how completeley and utterly exhausted he is. And maybe starting to be a little hungover. Can you be hungover before you’ve slept? Alec wouldn't know, he’s never been well and truly drunk before. 

 

“Of course I don’t mind. Let’s get you some rest.”

 

Alec drifts off pretty quickly once they lie down, but before he falls asleep, he feels his boyfriend’s arm thrown over him and that feeling sparks in his chest. “You are so, so good, my love,” Magnus whispers, and Alec’s pretty sure that he thinks he’s already asleep. “It’s such a shame that you can’t see it.”

 

Alec has bloody dreams that night, but he feels comforted even in his unconciousness, knowing that Magnus is there beside him. He wakes up in a cold sweat before the sun has even graced them with its presence. After he blinks slowly awake, he knows that he won't be able to go back to sleep. Or ignore the increasingly present headache banging in his skull. But that's alright with him; for now, he does not need to sleep or think or dream. Alec only needs to look at Magnus, the most beautiful man he's ever met, lying asleep and let it sink into his bones that remarkably, unfathomably, he is loved by the most amazing man. Somewhere in-between staring at Magnus' sleeping form in the dark, and the sun coming up, Alec resolves that he's not going to drink anymore.

 

''How are you feeling?" Alec starts a little when Magnus speaks, not having noticed his waking.

"A little better," he answers almost out of habit, and yet, to his suprise, he's also stricken by the realization that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to really mean it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks fam! Feel free to hmu at thecolormagicmakes on tumblr!


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